


Hustle

by scintilla10



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exhibitionism, Incest, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintilla10/pseuds/scintilla10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/"><b>blindfold_spn</b></a> for the prompt <i>Mostly-clothed Dean tops mostly-naked Sam in a bar or club.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hustle

Strip pool hustling was not something Dean learned from his dad. It was a technique he and Sam invented when they were drunk once and were challenged into playing strip pool at a club in Chicago. It turned out they could make a fair amount of money doing it, which was how Sam convinced him to try it again. They had figured it would work best in a busy gay club, where the men they were hustling would have a vested interest in getting him and/or Sam naked, and the public near-nudity might be less conspicuous.

So that was why Sam was ruefully stripping off his shirt in front of a muscled guy wearing a tanktop and a leer, and suggesting another game. And why Dean was sitting by himself at a nearby table, nursing his beer and trying to concentrate.

It turned out that this whole thing was a lot harder than Dean had thought. And yes, _harder_ was definitely the right word. Sam was fucking _flirting_ over there: running his fingers up and down the pool cue as he waited his turn, stretching in a way that showed off the lines of muscle flexing down his back, wrapping his lips obscenely around the rim of his beer bottle. The crowd that had gathered around their table was lapping it up, and Tanktop Guy's eyes glazed over every time Sam bent over to take his shot. It all made Dean's head hurt and his gut clench. This was the _point_ of the con, obviously; after this game, Sam would take off his pants (_oh God_), and they'd all be putty in his hands and would lay down money just to see him take a shot in the white briefs Dean knew he was wearing. It was the _point_, and Sam would be coming back to the motel room with _him_, so Dean didn't know why he couldn't unwrap his grip from at the bottle in front of him, or hear anything over the pulse pounding heavily in his ears.

Over at the pool table, Sam laughed, playing up his drunkenness, and flubbed his next shot. Tanktop was eating it all up, grinning right back at him. He even touched Sam on the arm, all casual and nonchalant, and Dean tensed, ready to go over there and fucking _pull out his gun_ if necessary to get that bastard away from his brother -- but then the guy just trailed his fingers a little and pulled away to line up his cue. One ball sunk, then two, and then -- just like that -- he won, and the leers of all the watchers broadened and everyone turned to look at Sam.

Dean's stomach turned over and he felt nauseated and keyed up all at once. He kept his eyes glued on Sam. _This was all part of the plan._ Sam was laughing and shaking his head. His hands went to his fly, and all of a sudden Dean couldn't breathe. This was all part of the plan, but it all felt wrong. That those anonymous assholes would be _looking_ at Sam, thinking they could touch him or _worse_, and was Sam really just going to --

But he was, because he was kicking his boots off and tugging his jeans down his hips, revealing those ridiculously tight briefs they'd jokingly picked out earlier, and all those men were staring at him, greedily eating him up their eyes, practically _drooling_ over him. Dean's blood was pounding, possessiveness and desire rolling through him. His mouth felt dry, his cock rock-hard in his jeans. Sam was like a fucking _wet dream_, eager and smiling and --

And yes, this was all part of the hustle, Sam grinning widely at them, and blinking those big eyes innocently, and all that money being laid down on the table, but Dean couldn't take it for one more second.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he was stalking over to the pool table, his gaze fixed on Sam's tall bare body. He didn't know whether it was the expression on his face or the way Sam's eyes went right to him or the way he said "Oh! Dean -- " but Dean viciously appreciated the way everyone around them seemed to disappear.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam hissed. "I almost -- "

Dean made a noise in his throat that sounded embarrassingly like a growl, and pushed Sam against the back wall, not completely in shadow, but out of the bright light over the pool table. Tanktop said, "Oh. Er. Another time?" and backed away, but Dean was focused on Sam: the flush on his cheeks, the hair falling into his eyes, the glint of sweat on his long neck.

"God, Sam," he said, his voice breaking a little. "Can't stand anyone's hands on you but mine."

Sam's breath hitched and his eyes darkened. Dean pressed up against Sam's nearly-naked body and found his mouth, pushing his tongue inside insistently, moaning at how easily Sam melted open for him and pulled him closer. It sent his pulse racing and his mind flying, how right it felt to have _this_ under his hands, only _his_ to touch.

He pushed his hard cock into Sam's hips and felt an answering twitch. "Dean, Jesus Christ, _Dean_," Sam was moaning. Dean scraped his nails over Sam's nipples and felt him buck and arch under his hands. He felt a rush of power just knowing how many people behind him were watching this, watching the way Sam opened to him, watching _him_ claim Sam's body. He bit at Sam's jaw and thrust his thigh between Sam's naked legs, shivering at the rasp of his jeans against Sam's bared skin, and pressed it hard and fast against Sam's dick. Sam gasped and Dean felt an answering _zing_ through his body. It was dirty and hot, and all he had to do was unzip his fly and tug down Sam's underwear and he could slide into him right here. Right here, he could have Sam naked and moaning on his dick, an entire gay bar watching them.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

One of Sam's hands was spanning Dean's ass, trying to keep the pressure against his dick. He was panting desperately into Dean's ear and when Dean shoved two of his fingers into Sam's mouth, Sam moaned around them and arched his hips. "C'mon Sammy," Dean whispered. "Show me how much you want it." Sam locked eyes with him and sucked on Dean's fingers, his tongue swirling eagerly, and Dean's cock throbbed in immediate response.

"Turn around," he said, his voice low. He caught sight of someone moving out of the corner of his eye, a whisper of movement, and he knew Sam must have seen it too. But Sam didn't do anything but release Dean's fingers with a messy slurp and turn to brace himself against the wall. Dean's stomach twisted and he palmed his own cock through his jeans. Sam was just going to _offer_ himself. All that gorgeous flesh -- the muscles bunching across Sam's long torso, that taut ass in those tiny briefs -- all spread out on the wall for Dean. He sucked in a breath and Sam turned his head, a grin on his face.

"If we're not going to make any money tonight, you better make this worth my while," he said, and Dean shoved his hand into Sam's underwear to shut him up. His wet fingers slipped over Sam's hole, gently playing with him and Sam widened his stance and thrust his ass out a little. Dean teased him with just a fingertip and fumbled to open his own jeans, pushing his boxers down just far enough to pull out his aching cock. He rubbed it a little against Sam's thigh, smearing precome, and pushed his finger just past the ring of muscle around Sam's hole. "Oh _fuck_," Sam moaned and Dean twisted his finger deep inside.

Dean could feel eyes on him and it suddenly occurred to him that fast might be the best option here. "Ready?" he whispered into Sam's ear and only got a moan in response. Sam's hand was rubbing at his own dick desperately through the underwear, so Dean took that for a _hell yes_. He struggled into his back pocket to find a condom and tore it open, rolling it down his cock with one hand, while he pulled the white briefs down over the curve of Sam's ass.

The first thrust almost had Dean coming. Sam was hot -- burning hot -- and slick and tight, and the sound he made was _obscene_. Pushing into Sam always felt good like this (_so good_), but this time he had Sam pressed up against the dirty wall of a club, slutty and needy, and there were people _watching_ them, watching him _take_ Sam, and Dean felt like he was about to explode with how hot it was.

Sam writhed desperately against him, his naked body glistening with sweat. _God_, Dean thought, he still was fully clothed, and _that_ should not be so fucking hot.

"God, _fuck me_," Sam gasped.

_Fuck_. Dean pulled back and _thrust_, gripping at Sam's hips and mouthing at his neck. So hot and tight and -- He felt Sam clenching around him, and grunted, rocking in again. He slid his hand around to Sam's dick and almost grinned when Sam twitched desperately in his grip, hard and dripping. He managed to set a rapid rhythm, thrusting into Sam and stripping his cock, fast and hard, until Sam tensed and groaned and came in messy pulses, panting "_Dean_" and "_fuck_" over and over.

And that was -- that was too much. Seeing Sam come apart under his hands, giving it up to him so sweet, careless of the eyes on them, was like a lightning bolt of energy through him. He felt like his whole body was wired and sensitized, his skin tightening, his balls tensing, his hands shaking, and it all shot suddenly towards his cock. He spurted desperately into Sam's wet heat, again and again, his cock aching with the release, his hips stuttering helplessly against Sam's body. It was too much and not enough and it was _Sam_ and Sam was his.

"Christ," Sam said, his voice hoarse and muffled a little against the arm that was holding him up on the wall. Dean bit gently at his shoulder and pulled out carefully.

Waiting for Sam to get dressed was a little awkward, considering how many people were standing around looking slack-jawed and aroused. Dean did his best to glare menacingly at them, which, considering his post-orgasm buzz, was harder than usual, and tugged Sam out the door as quickly as possible.

"So that was fun," Dean grinned, as they climbed into the Impala.

"Next time," Sam said, still looking flushed and fucked-out and delicious, "next time _you_ are definitely the one getting naked."


End file.
